Re-Gifting
by MadBat27
Summary: Arnold Wesker receives a present he really doesn't want, but Batman is pretty sure he can find a new home for it... as long as he can stop Arnold from opening it first. Xmas fic 10/25.


Arnold Wesker sat in his comfy brown armchair, wearing a hand-knitted jumper with reindeer bounding across fields of tinsel. The heating was on, and the room was toasty, but he wore his furry slippers just to be safe. The last thing he wanted for Christmas was frostbite.

The room was filled with the sound of Christmas songs, playing on vinyl from his late Grandmother's gramophone. Nat King Cole's vocals reverberated wonderfully in every recess of the small apartment, and Arnold basked in the sound. He much preferred it to the sound of gunshots he used to each night, back when he was still the head of a criminal organisation, or the screams of the other inmates back in Arkham.

Closing his eyes, he sighed contentedly. He'd been living here for almost six months now, without a peep out of the law, or any ill-willed puppets. He'd even got himself a job on a children's television show. Life was good. He was looking forward to his first Christmas alone.

And then the doorbell rang.

"Oh my. I wonder who that could be," Arnold said, pulling himself out of the armchair. "I do hope nothing is wrong."

As he shuffled towards his door, three loud bangs issued from the door. Whoever it was, they seemed quite eager to see him. And they wouldn't be taking no for an answer.

"Just a minute," Arnold called as he unlocked the door. Three more bangs answered, casuing him to flinch. "I'm…I'm coming."

The door opened with a click, leaving a small space through which to see the men standing at his door. Their entry was still blocked by the little chain. There were two of them; one large and vacant, the other shorter and slimmer with a crueller look in his eye. Both had stubble on their chins and rainwater dripping from their faces. Their sopping wet coats hung over the larger man's arm.

Regrettably, Arnold knew them well. Muggsy and Rhino, his old henchmen. Or, to be more accurate, Mr. Scarface's henchman. Arnold had never wanted to be a criminal, and these weren't the sorts that he'd choose to keep as company. But that was another story. They were there, and Arnold somehow doubted they were going to just leave.

"Hiya, Boss! I mean, er, Mr… Wesker," Rhino babbled.

"How are you?" Muggsy followed up. "May we call you Arnold?"

"Er… yes. Yes, of course."

"Very kind. So, you gonna let us in? It's awful cold out, and we've come a long way to see our old pal."

Arnold hesitated, trying to think of an excuse. He glanced back inside, looking toward the old gramophone as if ol' Nat would jump out and come to the rescue. But there was nobody to help him now. He was on his own.

"I…er, I don't think that's such a good idea. Conditions of my parole, you understand."

"Don't worry about it, Arnie! We're on the straight and narrow ourselves now. Rehabilitated we are."

"Yeah," Rhino added. "Straight as an arrow."

Muggsy grinned. Rhino looked as innocent as a new-born babe, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Arnold gulped.

"Well, then, I suppose you should come in," he whimpered, unbolting the door.

As the door opened, the two felons traipsed inside leaving a trail of muddy footprints right across Arnold's rug. Chewing his lip fretfully, Arnold shut the door behind them. This was quite a pickle he'd got himself into. The smell of rain and perspiration hung in the air in their wake and Arnold felt as though he was right back at Arkham again. He shuddered.

"Would you like some egg nog?" he asked, trying to be a good host and take his mind off of all the horrible things that happened at the asylum. And all the horrible things that might happen now.

"Too kind. Don't mind if I do," Muggsy said.

The goon seemed to think he could fool Arnold into believing he was refined. The former mob boss wasn't falling for it. He'd been there when Muggsy had broken people's fingers for money or information. Or sometimes just for fun.

Arnold shuddered again.

"We have a gift for you, too," Muggsy announced, giving the nod to his partner in crime.

"Oh, right," Rhino said.

He produced a large parcel, previously hidden by their coats. It was wrapped with red and white-spotted paper, with a green bow on top. There was no card or writing on the parcel. Rhino pushed it towards him insistently as Muggsy pulled the needle of the record.

Not even Nat to keep me calm now, Arnold thought to himself.

Reluctantly he took the present. Muggsy and Rhino stared at him expectantly as he slowly undid the ribbons, and pulled away the bow. His thoughts raced as his eyes darted around the room. What could he use? There was a lamp on the table beside the armchair, but did he really expect to prevail over two thugs? No, there was no chance of that. Perhaps an escape. The window was shut, he'd never get away in time through there, and even if he could make it to the door, he couldn't outrun them. Rhino may have been large, but he wasn't slow.

"Quit stalling," Muggsy drawled. "Open it. We want to see your reaction."

There was a touch of his old sinister self creeping back into his voice now. Arnold gulped again, and began to tear the paper. It wasn't long before the familiar scarred cheek was revealed. Sweat glistened on his forehead.

"Go on."

Just then, there was a crash, as the window shattered and a black shape glided into the room. A black bat-shaped shuriken sprang from the shape, mid-fall, and stuck against the gift knocking it from Arnold's hands.

"Batman!" Rhino exclaimed.

"Get him!" Muggsy roared, throwing himself forward with a flick-knife open in his hand.

Batman slammed his open palm against Muggsy's arm, and the knife feel to the floor. Then he sprang over the charging form of Rhino, sending the larger man barrelling into Muggsy. The two collapse in a heap in front of the armchair.

The whole time, Arnold simply stared.

"You'll be spending Christmas in Stonegate," Batman rasped.

"And what about Mr. Scarface?" Arnold asked, wringing his hands. "I don't suppose he came with a receipt."

"He'll be my present to the GCPD."


End file.
